


Wanted

by LadyoftheWoods



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fae Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Fae Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Fae Deceit | Janus Sanders, Fae Logic | Logan Sanders, Fae Morality | Patton Sanders, Flashbacks, Hurt Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Sympathetic Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Sympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Sympathetic Logic | Logan Sanders, Sympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29737098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: It's been a year, since Virgil stumbled into the fae garden.A year, but some things never change.And some things do.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAsexualofSpades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/gifts).
  * Inspired by [watch it burn and rust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20621636) by [delimeful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delimeful/pseuds/delimeful). 



> I am OBSESSED with (Un)Wanted by TheAsexualofSpades   
> so this is my take on what happens after.  
> This might not make a lot of sense if you haven't read that, first.   
> and if you haven't read that, WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING WITH YOUR LIFE!?  
> Read it here:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/26132491/chapters/63574861

Pain 

Pain, that burns, scorches his insides, steals his breath, and he doubles over, clutching his chest. 

Surely, any second it will stop, it can’t go on forever, it must end, all things end. But this… doesn’t. It dims, slightly, as he gets ahold of himself, enough he can hear past the ringing in his ears, the others trying to figure out who. 

‘Pat is it-' 

‘No, I’m… I’m fine, it’s not-" 

“I am also adequate.’ 

‘Roman, where's-‘ 

‘Here.’ 

‘V.’ He cuts in weakly, the echo of agony still pulsing through him. If he felt it that strongly, and it’s only a fraction of what Virgil is actually feeling, well, it makes him scared, if not furious at whatever has dared to hurt his mouse. ‘it’s from V. Duke?’ he knows Remus must already be at his room. 

‘Isn’t here. Can’t find him.’ He curses, and in the blink of an eye, he’s standing in the clearing. The others appear moments later, except for Remus, who’s already there, more than half feral. 

“He cannot have gone far. He is still nearby, somewhere.” Logan says, though his face is pinched with worry. “unless the gateway..?” the question trails off at a shake of his head. 

“Nothing has entered or left the garden, certainly not Virgil. Not without me knowing.” He snarls, remembering the fear, when those beasts had entered, stealing Virgil away, hurting him, punishing him, as if he had ever done a single act worthy of punishment. He’d made damn sure nothing like that could ever happen again. 

“It wasn’t a nightmare. I’d have known lickity split if it was, I would’ve been here.” Remus's voice is a low growl, sharp teeth bared, tentacles waving frantically. 

“I know. But there’s more ways than one for mortals to relive a trauma. He needn’t be asleep, for it to happen.” Logan answered softly. 

“but why… he’s gotten so good! He always comes to one of us, now, calls one of us, why would he run away this time?” Roman asks, twisting his sash tightly in his hands. 

Roman is right. Virgil’s nightmares and episodes of panic have greatly decreased, since they’d well and truly destroyed the village, since he’d told them all his name, trusted them fully. He’s gotten so much better, at asking for things, at just talking, making small talk and quips and his sharp wit was being revealed more and more often. At asking for comfort, both verbal and physical. He’d have expected Virgil to call for Remus, after whatever he felt so strongly it hit all of them, or perhaps Patton. Not to run. 

“oh.” Patton says quietly, catching his attention. 

“Pat? You got something?” Roman asks. 

“do you remember when Virgil first came to us?” he asks. 

“Of course!” Roman and Remus chorus together. 

“I think we all would have a hard time forgetting such an event.” Logan. And Patton shakes his head. 

“No, I mean… do you remember the date? Using mortal time?” everyone is silent, but it dawns on him suddenly, and it makes so much sense. 

“A year. Tomorrow, or today, now, I suppose, it will have been a year.” He answers, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. How could he have forgotten the mortal fascination with dates, anniversaries, how their minds linked the past to the present, how those awful memories just refused to stop plaguing V. 

‘you’d think you’d remember, given that you’re still counting the years' 

He shakes off the voice in his head, ignoring it. It’s right, but he doesn’t have the time or desire to unpack that now, perhaps ever. 

Another spike of pain, weaker, makes him inhale sharply, though it was considerably less than the first. 

“we have to find him.” Roman, voice cracking. Remus looks two seconds from going feral, Patton is pale, arms wrapped around himself, and Logan looks openly worried, now. 

“We must be careful. I suspect he’s having a flashback, meaning he thinks he’s back in the village, back with them. Any move we make could send him back further. We must be gentle and quiet and soft.” 

“of course. Everyone search your areas, then we'll work together on the woods.” He answers, and everyone splits up. 

… 

He’s running through the forest. 

It’s dark, he can’t see more than a few inches in front of his face, tripping and stumbling but never quite falling. 

They’re chasing him, he’s sure of it, they’ve found him and are going to hurt him, he doesn’t want to be hurt, he hasn’t done anything, please! 

He can already feel the heat of the brands, of the metal, the awful hissing sound it makes when it’s red hot, the almost hypnotic glow of it when they take it out of the fire, the sickening sizzling that it makes when it touches his skin and it burns, and he screams, and they push it harder, harder against him until it sticks to his flesh, cools there, so it’s agonizing when they rip it away, but they say his screams are the devils leaving his body so they do it again- 

He stumbles against a tree, gasping, vision spotty and legs unsteady, but he only gives himself a moment before forcing himself onwards. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t. 

Memories blurred his vision as he pushed through the branches, the cuts stinging his arms, not as bad as the whips. When they tied him to the post, kicking and fighting, so tight he couldn’t feel his hands, his ankles, the skin under the ropes raw and red from his struggling, and that was before the lashes had started. Once they did… 

He thought he would get used to the burning sting of them after the first few. He was wrong. Each one traced exquisite agony across his back, each one layering on top of the others, cutting deeper than the last, flaying his flesh from his body and he couldn’t even scream, by the end of it, his throat was raw and swollen, his wrists and ankles oozing blood, worn down to raw flesh, his muscles burned from exhaustion, from tensing at every lash, from arching his back as if that would escape the pain, escape the blows, get him away! 

It didn’t. Of course it didn’t. And afterwards, no one helped him, they cut him down and left him there, bleeding and broken on the ground. He survived, somehow. Managed to pull enough thought together to stumble and crawl his way to the small creek near the village, to wash himself best he could, to bind the wounds with fabric torn from his pants, to scavenge enough wild food to survive. 

Of course, his survival just made everyone more sure that he was cursed, because nothing natural could survive that on its own. 

Snippets run through too fast to process, here the sharp glint of a knife, slick with scarlet, there chains, binding him down to a table, men leering over him, here a fist coming at his face, there being thrown against a wall, over and over, until blood trickled down the back of his head, and they’re going to kill him this time, he’s sure of it. 

He’s falling. Suddenly there’s water, all around him, and he splutters out of shock, water immediately rushing into his lungs. That only makes him gag harder, as he struggles to kick, to find the surface, but he can’t see anything, it’s all murky and dark and he doesn’t know which way is up! 

He thinks he’s crying, not that he can tell for sure, hard to feel tears when he’s completely surrounded by water, but he's pretty sure he is, as he finds it harder to kick, to move at all, his body is becoming so heavy, too heavy, and he’s tired. Gods, he’s so tired. His struggling slows, stops, and he feels himself sinking, his body begging for air, but it’s distant, now. His eyes slip closed, the part of him screaming to fight this quieting by the second. It’s almost peaceful, this death. 

Something is wrapped around his waist, he’s moving through the water, so fast it makes him dizzy. Then his head breaks the surface, and something prods his chest, and he’s choking, hurling up buckets of water, burning his nose as it drains out of him, the coughs wracking his frame as he shakes from the force of them. He hears soft gurgles, low humming, and whatever is holding him is big and slippery, he thinks he’s being cradled by a… a tentacle? Several tentacles? 

But the humming is nice, and it doesn’t seem like it’s gonna eat him, and he finally, finally is gulping in air, though it burns his throat, which is sore and raw from all the water and bile he’s expelled. He doesn’t have the energy, to care what this thing is, as long as it has him, the villagers can’t get him. 

He shivers, curling tight into the thing, teeth chattering, the night air freezing against his sopping wet clothing. 

The thing burbles again, gently nudging him, but he doesn’t have the strength to respond, to move, to do anything, as he falls into a fitful half unconsciousness, becoming merely a tiny, scrunched up ball, unable to tell anymore what is real and what isn’t. 

… 

He’s cursing, as he combs through the woods. Usually he can sense V, can follow that darkness that still wiggles around in his head sometimes, but right now he’s too muddled to track like that. 

He’s barely holding on to his sanity, barely keeping from going feral, at the flashes of pain and panic he’s getting, but he needs to find him. 

He makes it to the lake. 

There’s no footprints on this side of the shore, and no V, either, part of him was hoping he’d be here, knowing how much the water calms him, but he isn’t. 

Then he hears a noise, and sees a blob in the water, brows furrowing. 

“Ollie? What’re you doing up?” Oliver burbles, but doesn’t come closer, which is odd. He walks nearer to the shore, water lapping at his feet. 

“Oliver." His tentacles are fidgeting, holding something, he realizes, holding something against him with exceeding gentleness. His eyes flash. “What do you have?” Oliver burbles again, but still doesn’t move closer, doesn’t show him, and he growls, aura flaring. 

“Oliver. Give. It.” He snarls, magic crackling across his skin, like little electric shocks against him, his tentacles writhing. Oliver pulls back further, making a low rumble, his own form of a growl, wrapping more tentacles around it, cradling it closer. He’s ready to scream, in frustration, trying to keep himself from losing the thread of sanity he’s clinging to, because if he goes feral now he’ll tear Ollie apart to get to V and he really doesn’t want to do that, but the waves are starting to swell, and his eyes are glowing, and the tension is crushing him as thunder rumbles over the lake. 

“Ollie. I know you’re trying to keep him safe. That’s what we want too.” Patton, and now Roman is between him and Ollie, blocking his vision, Logan off to the side somewhere, trying to talk some sense into the stupid blob in the water that is keeping him from V! 

“Remus. Come on, you gotta calm down. You’re scaring Oliver, and he won’t come here till you’ve calmed down.” Roman, steady, slowly rubbing up and down his arms, grounding him somewhat, enough he can start to get control. He takes in a deep breath, shoving against the magic, against the pain and fear and hurt, so much hurt, he can feel coming from V, forcing his tentacles to slow, to still, to calm. He needs to be calm. 

“ok. Ok, I'm ok, I’m just peachy.” He hisses, and Roman rolls his eyes. 

“Are you peachy enough to get your kraken over here?” Snakey asks, his usual drawl tight and sharp. He takes another breath, walking back to the shore, where Patton has coaxed Oliver closer, though still not near enough to touch, Logan resting a hand on his shoulder, no doubt trying to keep Patton from breaking down completely. 

“Ollie. Look, I’m sorry, buddy, I’m just... I’m scared. I’m scared for V, ok? We wanna help him, we will help him, and I know you know I’d never hurt him.” His voice cracks, and he knows Oliver is responding the way he is because of his own feelings about V, his own desire to hold the mortal and never let go of him, Oliver has always been tied so closely to his own thoughts and feelings. “You did a good job keeping him safe till we got here, but we need to see him, now, ok?” He asks, trying to keep his voice steady. It takes another long second, of him meeting Ollie’s eyes, before he burbles, and comes all the way to the shore. Slowly, he lowers his tentacles, uncurling them, gently depositing V into his arms. 

He hears Logan thanking Ollie, Patton’s sharp inhale, but he’s focused solely on V, his poor, poor little Virgil. 

He’s so small. He’s curled into such a tight little ball, scrunched up so small, and he’s freezing. He’s colder than when he first stumbled into the garden, he’s practically frozen through, and he’s soaked to the bone, shivering and shaking so hard his teeth are chattering. 

“Oh, V.” He murmurs, moving to brush back his hair, but at the touch V flinches hard, his pulse racing and he somehow curls tighter, arms coming up to wrap around his head, to protect it from harm, from anticipated blows, and now that he’s holding him, he can feel everything rattling around up there, it’s nearly overwhelming, it nearly makes him feral again, but he can’t, he has to hold on, he can’t. 

“Duke.” He tears his gaze away, finding it’s Logan. He suspects they’ve said his name several times, but his ears are still ringing, echoing with cruel shouts, with blows and whips and brands and fire and he isn’t even aware he’s growling until Roman rests a hand on his arm to help ground him once more. 

“what... what do we do?” Patton, and there are tears in his eyes, he thinks there’s tears in all of their eyes, he doesn’t think anyone is holding it fully together here. 

“The first step is to get him changed into dry clothes. Then we should get him settled in his house, and monitor his condition.” 

“Well then, let’s not delay. Surely staying out in the night air longer is perfectly healthy for him.” Snakey comments, and Roman huffs. 

“Quite.” 

… 

Getting him changed and dry is much more of a... challenge, than any of them had anticipated. 

Virgil curls away from every touch, whimpering and flailing weakly, trying to get away, no matter how Patton tries to soothe him, no matter what Janus whispers to him, no matter how Roman and Remus try to gently coax him into their laps, he’s still utterly terrified. 

He can feel it, thrumming through Virgil, as he gets the softest, warmest pajamas on him he can find, and it’s devastating him, his hands shaking, as he tucks him in, tears openly rolling down his face, he doesn’t know the last time he cried, not in decades, at least, as he sits on the edge of the bed, holding Virgil’s hand, muting the feelings crushing the little thing, trying to give him enough clarity to cut through everything else, to give him an iota of calm. 

It works, somewhat. The terror fades to bitter uneasiness, the panic easing up, just a bit of tension leaving his frame as he uncurls ever so slightly, still in a ball, but no longer so tight Logan is worried he’s going to hurt himself, though he’s still shaking. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment in an effort to center himself. 

“He needs rest. Hopefully when he wakes, he will be more cognizant.” His voice sounds exhausted, even to his own ears. “We should take turns, watching him, in case he starts exhibiting signs of illness. We don’t want to crowd him.” 

“You’re saying we have to leave.” Roman, disbelieving and low, almost angry. He opens his eyes again, seeing his own pain and despair mirrored in the others’. 

“Yes. We can spend time arguing, if you like, but know I am not happy about it either, nor will I stop you from staying if you truly wish to. I am simply telling you what I know will help him feel most comfortable based on past experiences. V is prone to getting easily overwhelmed, and though he’s become well accustomed to all of us being present, waking up surrounded by people, especially in his current state of mind, will only cause him further harm. I would like to take first watch, since this is when any immediate negative effects from being in the water however long he was will become apparent. If anything occurs, I will immediately alert all of you. Is this acceptable?” Everyone slowly agrees, though no one is happy about it. He’s not happy about it either, so he considers that fair. 

“Thank you.” He says quietly, 

“Of course. One of us will switch with you in a few hours, ok? And Lo? Don’t overwork yourself, too hard, kiddo.” Patton reminds him gently, tugging the others along with him, out of V's room. His attentions turn back to V, who’s clenched his hands around the blankets, face scrunched up, as he lets out a small sound, somewhere between a mewl and a whimper. 

“Shhh, little one. You’re safe, you’re safe. Nothing is going to harm you, not ever again, dear one.” He murmurs, resting a hand against Virgil's forehead, relieved to feel him warming up, lightly brushing his thumb across his cheek, blanketing him in another layer of calm, of stillness, of clarity, relaxing a tad as Virgil lets out a deep, shuddering breath, stilling once more. 

“that’s it, little one. Easy does it. Easy does it.” He continues his low murmurings, with every word covering Virgil in another blanket of distance from the memories plaguing him, wrapping them both in his magic, the world blurred from the layers surrounding them. 

He startles, at a touch to his shoulder. 

He looks up, blinking a few times, realizing his eyes are dry, he doesn’t know the last time he blinked, he’s been in a haze. He’s tired, too, a bone deep tired, and the air is thick with magic, leaving a slightly minty scent in the air, on the tip of his tongue. 

“Logan, honey.” Ah, right. He blinks again, trying to focus. Patton is looking at him, blue eyes soft with concern. “go to bed, sweetie. I’ll take care of him.” He nods, swaying slightly as he stands, Patton reaching out to steady him. 

“If anything happens-" 

“I’ll fetch you, I promise. Now, go on, Lo.” He mumbles an agreement, vanishing back to his room and falling into his bed. He’s asleep almost before his head hits the pillow. 

… 

As soon as Logan's gone, the calm fades from Virgil. His face scrunches and his breath comes faster, the thoughts and dreams Logan's presence had muted buzzing around him once more, with an added vengeance. 

That won’t do. Not at all. 

The swarm is dark and thick, nearly obscuring V completely. He burns them away with his gaze, plucks them out of the air, ignoring their screams and their sharp little burrs, trying to dig into his skin, it stings, but he doesn’t care. His only concern is V. 

“n-no... please... d-don't...” His attention jolts back to V instead of the cloud he’s now decimated. V’s eyes are open, but distant, clouded. 

“Virgil, sweetie, can you hear me?” He asks, heart cracking as Virgil whimpers, eyes squeezing closed and body trembling. “Oh, honey, it’s ok. It’s ok, honey.” He murmurs, and Virgil flinches back, breath speeding more. 

“s-s-sorry, sorry, pl-please, d-don't, I’m sorry!” 

“Honey, honey, honey. Shhh, V, Shh, you’re safe, you’re safe.” He murmurs, confused when his soft tone only makes Virgil freeze, his whole body tensing up, his breath stuttering in and out, and those little buzzing things are back, sticking to Virgil, digging under his skin, digging into him and filling him with fear. 

... 

“Stay still, Virgil, that’s right, good, good.” someone coos, saccharine sweetness and he can’t help but obey, at the praise, he whimpers, at the chains being fastened to his wrists, his ankles, wrenching his arms painfully behind him. “That’s it, lovely, good boy.” Then pain explodes against his head, and the world goes dark. 

... 

Patton gasps, as he finally crushes the thing in his fist, shaking with fury. He knew they had used praise and soft words to subdue him, overwhelming him with the things he so desperately craved and needed, that they so cruelly withheld, saving it to use against him. Janus had explained, after they healed V, after they got him back, with his permission, of course. It had explained partially why he was so overwhelmed with praise, so easily flustered to pieces by kindness, and it had helped all of them understand why it not only flustered him, but sometimes scared him. The only time he was used to gentleness, was right before he’d be hurt. 

It was barbaric. It was infuriating. And he doesn’t know what to do about it. So he steadfastly continues plucking off the burrs, each one another painful memory, another moment of softness followed by fear, pain, chains, ropes, burning, and by the time they’re all gone, his jaw is clenched tight, because otherwise he’ll scream. 

He reaches out, slowly, and this time V doesn’t pull away, he leans into his hand with a soft sound, and Patton can’t help himself. 

He slips into the bed, under the covers, smiling slightly as Virgil instantly cuddles against him, clutching onto his shirt, burying his head against his chest. He wraps V in his arms, curling around him, enveloping him in soft safety, sleepy warmth. Virgil makes a small sound and shifts closer. 

“p... pat...?” Comes the quiet question, voice shaking. 

“It’s me, sweetie, it’s Patton.” 

“don... don let them... don...” 

“Shhh, honey, no one’s gonna hurt you. I won’t let them. I won’t let them have you.” He replies fiercely. 

“I don’t wanna... I don’t...” 

“It’s ok, take your time.” He soothes, rubbing Virgil’s back. “Take your time.” 

“don’t wanna let go.” 

“You don’t have to, honey. You never have to let go, if you don’t want to.” Virgil doesn’t say anything more, and he guesses he’s fallen back asleep. He doesn’t think he was really fully awake and aware to begin with. “I will never let you go.” 

… 

He’s cold. 

He’s shaking, he’s so cold. 

Have they left him in the freezer, again? That wasn’t fun, he hadn’t liked that. He hadn’t liked any of it, of course, but that was pretty low on his list. His fingers and toes had puffed up and bruised, the skin going all purple, and he’d hurt, all of him had hurt, for the next week or longer. It had been so small, and so scary, and one of the closest times they’d come to actually killing him, the first time. He’d been so cold. He’s so cold. 

“Oh, little honeybee, of course you are.” He knows that voice, that rich, soft voice, and it isn’t cold, he can’t remember it ever being cold, and he just wants to be warm. He gasps at soft touch to his face, a finger trailing across his hairline, over his cheek, down to the back of his neck, which makes him tense for a moment, before they start lightly scratching at the nape of his neck, and he melts back into the cushiony thing underneath him, back arching slightly at the rush of tingling pleasure. “Does that help, honeybee? Is that nice and warm?” The voice coos, and he shudders, remembering other voices, other people, using that tone, standing over him, a knife, dripping with blood, his blood, fury in their eyes and he can’t help but scream, but plead- 

“Shhh. Shhh, darling.” The hand moves again, lightly brushing across his cheeks, wiping away tears. “Honeybee, can you hear me? Are you awake?” The voice asks, brushing through his hair. 

His eyelids feel heavy, everything about him feels heavy, actually, heavy and slow and muddled, but he manages to pry open his eyes, though the world is still blurry, barely recognizable, a mess of colors and shapes, but slowly, the face above him comes into view. 

“V?” He bursts into tears. 

“Oh, oh, oh, darling, can I touch?” 

“y... ye... s...” He manages, nodding, weakly reaching out, Roman instantly there, gently tugging him into his lap. Roman wraps his arms around him, one hand cradling the back of his head, his thumb rubbing circles against a sensitive spot just behind his ear, his other pressing him close, wrapped around his waist. He feels Roman press a soft kiss to the top of his head, lingering there as he cries, sobs, the feeling of safety almost overwhelming, truly overwhelming. 

“Thank you, honeybee, you’re doing so well, Virgil, so well. Just let it all out, there we go, just let it out.” Roman murmurs, rocking ever so slightly, as he starts to hiccup on his gasping inhales, the desperate relief intoxicating and breathtaking. 

“R... ro...” 

“Shh, I’m here, honeybee. I’m here. I’m here.” Roman repeats, between other soothing reassurances, and he’s pretty sure Roman is using a touch of his magic, he can feel it lightly tracing against his skin, making Roman’s touch even warmer and more intoxicating that it naturally is, even after so long he still isn’t quite used to being touched like this, like he’s something precious, something that deserves to be treated with gentleness. “Just breathe for me, darling, some nice big breaths, yes, just like that, just like that, that’s so good, V. So good.” His breathing starts to steady, as he follows Roman’s instructions, follows his breathing, sagging against him, exhausted as he buries his head in Roman’s shoulder, silent tears still slipping down his face. 

“You sweet little thing. I know you don’t know even half how precious you are, V, there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for you, if you asked it of me. Not a thing.” 

“don’t wanna go back, don’t make me go back!” He gasps, holding tight to Roman. He feels Roman shift, and suddenly Roman’s cupping his face, eyes soft and serious. 

“Never. I would never. You’re ours, V, as long as you want to be you are ours, and nothing in the world will take you away from us. Take you away from me.” Roman presses another kiss to his forehead, and he sees himself shimmer, for a moment, the gleam of their claims sparkling against his skin, then the world seems to swirl, as everything goes dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just love this series, ok?

Patton is sitting in a chair, Remus clinging to him, though his eyes never leave V. Roman is still holding Virgil on his lap, cradling him close, though his eyes are worried, as he watched Logan, who’s taking his temperature, his pulse, is listening to his lungs. And Janus is pacing, arms tucked behind his back, unable to help it, he should have expected this, he’s the human expert, he was one, for fuck’s sake, why do these things keep catching him by surprise? 

“He just... passed out?” Patton asks again, voice high and wavering. 

“He was talking, he knew it was me, and then he just...” Roman stops as Logan shushes him, a hand on Virgil’s chest, eyes closed as he listens. 

“Well?” He asks, his own voice tight and sharp. Logan sighs. 

“He’s ill. He has a relatively high fever, and his lungs seem to be working below their usual capacity. I would say he fell unconscious due to a multitude of factors, one being overexertion, from expending so much energy. Another could be the slight change in altitude, due to you shifting him upright after so long laying down made him dizzy, it’s common, Roman, you did nothing wrong there. But the fever... it is the body’s natural way of dealing with an illness, the organisms that make him sick cannot survive such temperatures. But neither can he.” The room goes still, silent. He doesn’t think any of them are even breathing, at Logan’s words. 

“what... does that mean?” Roman, a whisper. 

“It means, if his temperature continues to rise, before long his own body will start damaging itself, specifically his brain, among other vital organs. Short term, it could lead to hallucinations, to believing he is somewhere else in time, impaired senses, especially sight. Long term... the consequences could be deadly. I would suspect he was already ill, before his exposure to the water and the cold, and that sense of vulnerability partially led to his flashback. Stress is known to cause illness, in mortals, and he may not have even realized he was stressed, his body’s subconscious reaction to the... anniversary. This is all worst case scenario, of course.” 

“So. What do we do?” Remus, firm and grim. 

“We watch and we wait.” Everyone’s eyes turn to him, disbelief, outrage, anger, fear, flashing across their faces. 

“That’s it?!” Roman nearly shrieks, quieting as Virgil makes a small sound of displeasure. 

“That’s all we can do. A cool washcloth for his head may also be of assistance. And if he continues to decline or begins to have trouble breathing, we should try a warm bath. In the meantime, we should continue in shifts.” 

“no. No, I’m not... I can’t leave him, not if... not...” Remus, who’s staring at V, eyes wide and face very pale. “I can’t.” 

“Me neither. Not if he wakes up and thinks he’s back there. Not if those awful things come back.” Logan sighs, turning to him, and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Surely I plan on leaving, especially when V is in such a state.” 

“Alright. Then we’re all disregarding my own advice and staying. Try to stay quiet, loud noises are not a good idea at the best of times, and if he wakes before this breaks he is likely to be disoriented. No crowding.” 

“We’ll be on our best behavior, L.” Roman answers, and Logan nods once, before conjuring a chair and sinking into it, running his hands through his hair repeatedly. 

“He will be fine. He just needs rest.” 

… 

He aches. 

His nose feels stuffed full of cotton, he’s sore in muscles he didn’t even know he had, and when he tries to breath in, he chokes on phlegm, ending up in a coughing fit that tears at his chest. Then something behind him moves, shifts him, and he hisses at the wash of vertigo the movement causes, though once it settles, he does find it easier to breath, his coughing abating. 

“Little mouse?” He makes a soft ‘hm?’ in response, his throat sore and scratchy. “Can you open your eyes, little mouse? Try and focus on my face.” He scrunches his face, the effort it takes monumental, but eventually he manages, blinking until the world fades into view, focusing in on Janus, looking down at him softly. 

“J?” Something flashes across Janus’s face too fast for him to read, but it’s deep and tired, he thinks. 

“Oh, little mouse, you gave me quite a scare.” Janus murmurs, tucking a strand of his hair back. 

“what-” He breaks off, coughing into his elbow, they’re small things, but he swears each one reaches into his chest and stabs it with a branch covered in thorns. “what happened?” 

“We aren’t entirely sure, lovely. You... had some sort of flashback. We retrieved you from Oliver, who found you sinking in the lake. I can’t imagine why, but after that ordeal you came down with an illness.” That gets a small smile out of him, the dryness in Janus's voice countered by his obvious concern. “Your fever was quite worrying. It broke last night.” 

He remembers, vaguely. Remembers feeling both burning hot and freezing cold, remembers tossing and turning, nausea making his head spin, he remembers coughing so hard he hurled up bile, unable to breath between them, choking on nothing. He remembers crying out, imagined horrors flashing before him, gone too fast to truly even process, but he still tried to scream, tried to fight them off, because otherwise they’d hurt his family, lashing out, but it wasn’t monsters, it wasn’t them, faces twisted with hate and rage and murder, it was- 

“Breathe, Virgil. In and out, little mouse. In and out.” 

“Sorry. S-s…orry.” 

“Shhh, what was that, little mouse, where did you go?” 

“I thought it was… didn’t know… I-I…” 

“take your time, dearest, just breathe, little mouse, just breathe.” Janus murmurs, his arms shifting subtly, shielding him from the world, from the outside, so the only things in the world are him and Janus. Once that thought would have terrified him, but now it just makes him nearly start crying again. 

“I h-hit you…” 

“Ah. You remember that.” 

“Sorry, I-" 

“easy, little mouse, easy. It’s ok, it’s ok. You didn’t know, you weren’t here, you were defending yourself. I will never be mad at you for defending yourself.” 

“I hurt you.” He whispers. 

“oh, little mouse, not in the way that you think.” 

“What… do you mean?” Janus pulls away, cupping his face, pressing a kiss to his forehead before meeting his eyes. 

“It hurts us, hurts me, to see you hurting, little mouse. To see you so afraid and be unable to comfort you, because you don’t recognize us. To see you as you were when you first came into the garden. Such huge pain, in something so, so small and delicate…” Janus murmurs, stroking his hands over his face, the sweep of his brow, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks. “that’s what sends me to pieces, love.” 

“I’m sorry. I should be better, by now, I-" 

“You are. Better. You’re so much better than you were, V, you’ve done so well, so well, at healing, love. That doesn’t mean there won’t still be slips, days where it still hurts, times when you forget. Never apologize for it, little mouse. Never apologize for making progress. Never apologize for what happened to you, Virgil. None of it was ever your fault.” 

“then why does it feel like it is? Why does it still... I must have done something, at first, I must have done something to make them hate me, besides just... just existing, for just being a little different, I must have done something!” 

“You didn’t. You didn’t.” Janus soothes, rubbing up and down his arms, but he pulls away, tangling his hands in his hair, pulling, the little pinpricks giving him something to focus on, so he pulls harder, hissing as Janus reaches out, tries to touch him, but he can’t. “Virgil, please, you didn’t.” 

“How do you know?” He begs, voice cracking, curling in on himself, “how do you know, I must have hurt someone, I must...” 

“Shh. I’m just like you, little mouse. I’m just like you, remember? They hurt me, too. They hurt me for no reason, little mouse, because I was different. I didn’t deserve it, dearest, nor did you.” 

“no, no, no, nononono...” He can’t breathe, he can’t, he can’t- 

“little one. Little one, can I touch?” Logan, Logan’s here now. He nods, and Logan reaches for him, gently untangling his hands from his hair, holding them tenderly, running his thumbs over his knuckles. 

“Breathe, honeybee. Just take a breath, for me.” Roman, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and he presses his head against him, like a cat, his steady heartbeat soothing against his own jumping wild one. 

Remus doesn’t say anything. He’s just suddenly there, wrapping them all in a tight hug, his tentacles squeezing gently, providing a soft pressure that grounds him, that has him shuddering, as all the tension releases from his body, and he slumps closing his eyes, trying to breath. 

“What do you need, Virgil? What will help you, little monster?” Remus asks, whispers in his ear. “what do you want?” 

“I want-” He breaks off, it’s so hard, it’s so hard. 

“Go on, little one. Name it, and it will be yours.” Logan murmurs. 

“I want to stay here forever. I never want to leave, I never want to let go, I never want to leave, please, please, I never want to leave...” 

“Little mouse.” Janus tips up his chin, so their eyes meet, his gaze soft and serious. “I can do that. I can make it so you will always be here with us. But it will change you. As it changed me, and it can never be undone. Are you sure, this is something you want?” He takes in Janus’s slit eyes, the scales glimmering across half his face, his extra arms. He can tell Janus is waiting for him to say no, to refuse, to scorn him because of how different he is. It almost makes him laugh, that Janus thinks for a moment he cares. 

“Wait, you can do that?!” Roman squawks, breaking the moment of tension, getting a small snort out of him, at the outrage on the prince’s face. 

“Yes. I can.” 

“You never brought it up before!” Remus answers, surprise matching Roman’s. 

“I didn’t.” Janus replies evenly. “I couldn’t.” 

“why?” he asks, and Janus softens, the way he always does, when he’s looking at him. 

“Because this? This has to be entirely your choice, little mouse. Even saying this was an option, would have influenced you, pressured you, and I will never force you into anything, Virgil. No matter how strongly my own feelings on the matter. You also don’t have to make this choice now.” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes what, sweetie?” Patton asks. 

“Change me... please. Please.” 

“Very well, little mouse. Let’s go outside. We may need some space for this.” He stumbles, as he gets to his feet, Remus and Roman immediately on either side of him, steadying him. 

“I’m alright.” He mumbles, though he doesn’t shrug off their touch, as they escort him outside, to the middle of the clearing, before backing off, until the snake is the only one before him. Janus holds out his hand, golden light encasing it. He hesitates. 

“Dearest. You needn’t.” 

“No, it’s just... will it hurt?” He asks nervously, glancing up to Janus’s face. 

“No. I won’t let it, V, you have my word. It will not hurt you. It may feel... strange, but it will not hurt.” He nods, taking a deep breath, clasping Janus’s hand. 

Janus closes his eyes, pulling on his power, his golden ropes encasing Virgil. He has always had the power to bend Reality to his will, and right now, his will is to keep Virgil as long as Virgil will have them, and to make sure that nothing will hurt him, not ever, especially not this. 

… 

The world spins. Light erupts around them, encasing him, that familiar and dreaded power welling up inside him, consuming him, and for a moment, it almost burns. Then a wash of cool gold surrounds him, protecting him, making him feel fuzzy and light, blocking the pain as he feels his body shift and morph, the core of him twisting into something new, into something else, something not... human, anymore. 

The world crystalizes, new eyes opening up below his normal two. Four brown, spidery legs sprout from his back, much like Remus’s tentacles. His canines sharpen, grow, and he knows somehow there is venom in them, that he can keep himself safe with it. His eyes glow violet and the claims on him shimmer, encasing him in a rainbow of light, his own violet glowing steadily below it all, closer to the surface than ever, and he knows his role, suddenly. 

Fear. 

He’s not afraid. He isn’t of fear, not anymore. He controls it. Not always, like Janus said, there will always be slips, always be days where he can’t, where it overwhelms him, when his role becomes all that he is instead of simply part of it, but this... this isn’t quite that. It’s the fear that drives you to fight for your life, the fear that makes you check your closet for monsters, the fear that tells you when someone or something is watching you too closely, the primal fear that instinctually keeps you safe. He is fear. 

But he is also Survival. 

… 

He gasps, opening his eyes, so many new eyes, and the world is clearer, brighter, he can see, really see, see the magic and life flowing through the clearing, through the trees, can see the glow of each of the others, can see every blade of grass and bead of dew, like his vision is fine tuned and ramped up to an eleven. All his senses are on overload, actually, and he realizes it’s not just physical senses. He can… can feel Janus, can feel the connection between them, the claim on him, oddly comforting. And he can feel the others, because they’re tied to Janus, so he’s tied to them, and the love and adoration rolling off them is overwhelming. 

It’s too much. He’s feeling too much, and it’s too bright and everything is so… so much. He’s trying to process all this new sensory input, and his new legs are shaky, on the ground, trying to keep him steady as he sways, the rush of magic from the change fading away, leaving him tired, achingly tired, trying to figure out everything he’s sensing. 

“lightly, lightly, Virgil, remember, do everything lightly.” Janus, he can’t tell if he’s speaking aloud or right into his mind, he’s squeezed his eyes shut, but everything is still so loud, so much, his own body sounds like a freight train, how do they do this? 

He gasps at a rush of coolness, tempering all the heat, the confusion, the mild panic starting to bubble behind his closed lids because it’s so bright. It’s Logan, he knows, squeezing his hand, muting his senses, just a bit, as soft hands cover his eyes, the snake holding him from behind, his second pair of hands around his waist, holding him upright, his head tucked over his shoulder. Finally it’s dark, dark and quiet and his head has almost stopped spinning, as his legs give out, buckling under him. Before he can even try and catch himself, tentacles wrap around him, lowering him gently to the ground before pulling him close, onto Remus’s lap. 

“Little monster, you are magnificent.” Remus murmurs in his ear, and a shudder works its way up his spine as he brushes a hand against one of his new legs. 

“Sweetie, did that hurt?” Patton, but he can’t summon words, just manages to shake his head. 

“oh, oh, little honeybee, what about this?” Roman says softly, his voice just this side of playfully smug. Before he can question it, all thought flees from his mind, and he keens, at the touch, rubbing softly but firmly against the base of a spider leg, the flesh there apparently sensitive, as his whine gets higher and his body arches, trying to get closer to the touch, before his muscles give out and he slumps into a puddle, barely able to breathe, past the rushing in his ears. He knows Roman is only touching one spot, but it feels like his entire body is tingling, every single one of his atoms alight, vibrating with pleasure, his mind and senses overwhelmed by this feeling, he can’t think, he can’t move, he can’t do anything, his body weak at this touch, he can’t think, and it’s so warm, so warm, it almost burns, it almost hurts, it’s so much, too much, stop, he can’t- 

He gasps, choking on air, huge, whooping things, that have him trembling, as the touch stops, leaving him almost icy cold, everything rushing back at once, the world suddenly swimming back into focus, and he whimpers again, pressing his head against Remus, squeezing his eyes closed once more, clutching onto him tightly as he struggles to breathe, just to breathe, just to calm down and breathe, Remus’s tentacles wrapping tightly around him. 

“Good job, Roman.” Remus snipes. “We’re supposed to be not overwhelming him.” 

“I didn’t mean to...” 

“I know, kiddo. You got excited.” Patton, softly. 

‘little mouse?’ Janus, in his mind, this time, soft and soothing, smoothing out his thoughts. 

‘here. I’m... h-here.’ he thinks back, unable to summon words, still, unable to form them, his head rushing. 

“He’s ok, just overwhelmed.” He hears Janus say softly. 

“I’m sorry, honeybee, I’m sorry.” Roman, and he feels Remus growl slightly as Roman kneels down next to them, his tentacles tightening ever so slightly. 

“s ok.” he mumbles, “s... s ok.” 

“It’s ok if it isn’t, sweetie.” Patton answers softly. 

“I know.” He mumbles back, it seems his brain has finally come back online. He takes another long moment to compose himself, before lightly pushing Remus, who takes it as a signal to let go, letting him sit up on his own, rub his face to get rid of the tears, wincing slightly as he rubs against his new eyes. Right, he’ll have to remember those are there. It’s still bright, his new eyes are extra sensitive and he closes them again, though it doesn’t seem to hinder his sight at all. It seems they simply heighten it, the world is much calmer without them open, for now. 

“Little one, how are you feeling?” Logan, reaching out, waiting until he nods, before stroking his cheek. 

“I...” he doesn’t know, quite. He feels odd, strange, still trying to figure out where everything goes, how everything works, now. He doesn’t hurt, he isn’t achy, not any more than he was before, but the tightness in his chest and the stuffiness of his nose is gone. Pros of being a fae, or whatever he is now, they apparently don’t get sick. He takes a deep breath, tries to stand, managing to get his legs under him, though they tremble, his spider legs implanting themselves in the ground around him, holding him steady, though they too shake. 

“tired.” he decides, finally. Not physically, really, more emotionally. Like if anything else happens, he’ll implode. 

“That’s ok, sweetie, of course you are. This was so much, so much, and you did so well.” Patton, squeezing his shoulder once. 

“J...” 

“I’m here, little mouse, right here.” Janus is before him again, rubbing his shoulders, another pair around his waist, helping to steady him. “I’m here, shh, I’m here.” Janus murmurs, as he tucks his head back against his shoulder, Janus’s last pair wrapping around his back, hugging him close. 

“What do you think, lovely? Of all your new little bits and bobs?” Janus asks, and he knows him well enough to sense the nervousness in his voice. 

“like it. Feels... feels right.” He answers. It does, it feels so much better, it feels like this is always what he was supposed to be, it feels right, in a way nothing else ever has, except for saying yes to staying in the garden to begin with. 

“I’m so glad, little mouse.” Janus presses a kiss to his forehead, making him shiver, resting more of his weight onto Janus. “Shall we get you back to sleep, darling?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Where would you like to go, V? To sleep?” Logan asks gently. 

“Roman’s. If it’s s’ok.” He mumbles. 

“Of course it is, honeybee.” 

“Soft.” 

“It’s soft?” Patton asks, and he nods, already half out of it. 

“S soft, at Ro’s. Feels nice. M still not used to so much soft.” Something he usually wouldn’t admit out loud, but he’s lost the be ability to filter himself, to care, so lost in the fuzzy warmth filling him. 

“Oh, little one, you precious little one, we will always be soft, for you.” Logan, and he feels another small kiss pressed to his cheek. 

“Hold on, little mouse.” Janus murmurs, the world shifting around him, and then they’re in Roman’s room. He hears him moving things, the soft thump of pillows and cushions being placed on the ground, then Janus deposits him gently on top of the cushions. His legs slowly retract, folded against his back, and he sighs, at the softness underneath him, nuzzling his cheek against it. 

Then he feels the cushions resettling, and someone holds him from behind, Remus, cuddling him carefully close. Roman curls against his front, a hand tangling in his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, murmuring soft things, gentle things, that have him blushing lightly, though they don’t really register. 

Patton settles on Roman’s other side, and Logan settles behind Remus, Janus sprawling himself over the top of all of them, slipping one hand into his and squeezing it lightly, running his thumb over his palm, his knuckles, playing with his fingers in nonsense, soothing patterns. 

“We have you, sweetie. We’ll always, always, have you.” Patton whispers, and he believes him. Believes all of them, when they each echo his sentiment. 

He never wants to be anywhere else, ever again. And he doesn’t have to be.


End file.
